Songbird
by Kaede-tama
Summary: Arthur Kirkland would do anything to be with Matthew Williams. Dark!UKCan
1. I: Mockingbird

**full warnings:  
** A mentally deranged Arthur, some cursing, psychological trauma, possible upcoming scenes of torture.

This is not a happy fic. o.o

* * *

**Songbird**  
I. Mockingbird_  
_

_"Are you l-lonely?"_

_The quiet, sandy-haired boy glanced up from his fixed gaze on the ground. The swing moved slowly back and forth, the rusty chains creaking in his ears, as he sat in front of the other boy that had approached him._

_He didn't answer and looked away again, wishing to be left alone._

_"You s-sit in m-my gr-group for c-cl-class, remember?" _

_He looked up again to study the stranger. He had wavy, slightly overgrown tresses that reminded him of the color of wheat. The boy's eyes were a shade of light indigo, peeking curiously at him.  
_

_"I'm M-Matthew," the small blond introduced, managing a smile through his heavy stutter. "C-Can I-I sit here wi-with you?"_

_"I don't know," the other eight-year-old snapped. "_Can_ you?"_

_His tone was sharp. He shot the other the meanest gaze he could muster, which only resulted in making those indigo eyes wet with tears. "I-I'm sorry," the boy sniffled, wiping the tears away with his sleeve before they could trickle down. "I'll j-just leave th-then."_

_He had taken two steps away when he heard the other: "I didn't say you couldn't sit."_

_The wavy-haired blond turned, cocking his head curiously. "D-Does th-that mean I can...?"_

_"I thought I just said you could," the other boy said, and before he knew it, he was chuckling._

_Matthew smiled happily at the sound and took a seat on the empty swing next to him. "So wh-what's y-y-your name?" he chirped brightly._

_"I'm Arthur."_

**. . .**

Matthew woke with a start, eyes snapping open and subsequently getting blinded by the harsh sunlight. He raised a hand to cover his eyes while fumbling for the curtains. Once he grabbed hold of them, he yanked them shut. Vaguely, he registered his alarm clock going off as his mind tried to clear itself.

"Shut that thing off!" came a shout from somewhere outside his room.

If he wasn't awake before, he was fully awake now. He jolted up to a sitting position and slammed a fist down on the snooze button so as to not further antagonize his father. He didn't need a bruise to show off at school.

The beeping was abruptly cut off. Matthew collapsed limply back down onto the pool of sheets with a sigh. He wanted nothing more than to crawl back under the comforter and go back to sleep.

At least it was Friday.

Blindly, he reached for the cell phone on his bedside table to check the screen. He had three unopened text messages and two missed calls. A faint smile crossed his face when he saw that they were all from Alfred.

_Alfred._

Matthew always needed to think of something early in the morning to motivate himself to get up for the rest of the day; thinking about Alfred always seemed to do the trick. Just his name alone could send Matthew's heart fluttering - which didn't make him feel so manly, but he digressed. The feeling was, admittedly, nice.

He set the phone back down before slipping out of bed. His maroon pajama pants riding low on his hips, hand running through his wavy blond hair, he padded to the bathroom.

When he came back to his room a few minutes later, dripping wet and trying to towel his hair dry, he heard his phone ringing.

He knew it was Alfred - and it wasn't just because he had his own ringtone. He answered the call halfway through the second ring with a bright, "Al?"

"Morning!" his boyfriend chirped, sounding more enthusiastic than usual. "Hey, you almost ready? I'm outside."

"What?" Matthew leaned over to look out the window. True to Alfred's word, the familiar sleek black car was waiting outside. "You don't have to pick me up," he protested half-heartedly into the receiver. "I could take the bus any time."

Alfred scoffed. "And risk losing you to possible rapists?" he said. "Not on my watch, Mattie."

"There aren't any rapists around here." Matthew held the phone meticulously in place with his shoulder. It was true - their town was relatively small, everyone basically knew everyone, and hardly any drama ever happened.

"That's what they all say. Then it happens," Alfred persisted, sounding semi-serious. A few seconds later, his tone switched to playful. "Hey Matt, guess what?"

"What?" Matthew asked, setting the phone on speakerphone as he pulled his shirt on.

"I can see you through your window."

"The curtains are closed."

Alfred cursed. "Well, it was worth a shot."

"I'll be down in a second," Matthew said, chuckling to himself. He ended the call and slipped the phone in his pocket, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and then exited his house with the least amount of noise as possible.

"Jeez, Matt, I thought you were supposed to feel more open with your family," he said in a chastising tone, clearly disapproving, "not like you have to sneak around like some sort of ninja."

"I'm used to it," Matthew replied shortly, shrugging, as if it wasn't a big deal.

Alfred dropped the subject, thankfully, and made a big show about opening the passenger side door for him. Matthew, embarrassed but smiling, acquiesced and got in.

Within a few minutes, they had pulled away from the curb and were heading to the high school.

**. . .**

The hallways were always busy, especially the lockers. Students were always waiting for each other, which just added to the over-crowdedness of it all. Arthur hated it(the fact that his locker was on bottom didn't help), but today day, things seemed less chaotic. There were less people milling about. Arthur could actually straighten out his elbow without hitting anyone.

He was probably just early though, and that crowd was bound to arrive sooner or later. So he made sure to unpack and gather his books for his morning classes as quickly as possible. The emerald-eyed student had just shut his locker and was moving to stand when he felt someone trip on his leg.

"S-Sorry!"

Arthur turned to glare at whoever it was, but his expression softened considerably when he saw that it was only Matthew, eyes wide, cheeks flushed slightly. "Just watch your step next time," he said, shooting a half-smile at the other. The smile diminished when he saw the one and only Alfred Jones catch up with Matthew.

"You okay, Matt?" the golden-haired teen asked, clearly concerned.

"I'm fine, you shouldn't worry so much."

"I just don't want you getting hurt."

A smile. A hand on his cheek. A quick, fleeting kiss to his lips.

Arthur hid a scowl by turning to pick up his books. Then he stood, catching sight of the couple's backs as they proceeded down the hallway together. Matthew was laughing at something that Alfred said - a laugh that Arthur could identify anywhere - and in return, the taller boy's arm was slung across his waist, pressing Matthew into his side. Almost...possessively. Mockingly.

He didn't know how long he stood there for, ignoring the students pushing past him, watching as Matthew reached his homeroom. The young Canadian turned to kiss Alfred on the cheek, but Alfred moved so that their lips touched instead.

Arthur's fingers tightened on his books as anger flared within him. He gritted his teeth harshly, willing himself to calm down, trying to convince himself that it was natural. They were a couple. Couples were supposed to do things like that. Plus, it wasn't like they were doing it to rub it in his face. He had never told anyone his secret. It was okay.

Yet, it was not; Arthur was in love with Matthew. And seeing that brainless idiot have his hands all over him, acting as if he _owned_ him, was not okay. Not to Arthur.

He had nearly convinced himself and was taking a step to turn away when Alfred suddenly turned as well, catching his eye.

At first, the other boy looked surprised, as if he wasn't expecting to see Arthur. But then something clicked in his mind, and a smirk curved his lips.

Arthur met his gaze levelly.

Eventually, the rest of Alfred's friends caught up with him, and the American was carried away by the flow of the crowd. Arthur was still standing there by the time the bell rung, face blank, knuckles white from clutching at his binder too hard.

Matthew would be his soon.

* * *

**a/n:** I really do want to finish this story, and I actually have a few thousand words of it done already. So we know that this will live to at least a third chapter, yay! :D /shot

And yeah. Arthur's not exactly...  
...mentally healthy.


	2. II: Blue Jay

II. Blue Jay_  
_

_"How come you stutter?" Arthur wasn't one to beat around the bush. He stared unwaveringly at his new companion sitting across the table, chewing at a sandwich._

_"I d-d-don't know," Matthew mumbled. Now he looked embarrassed, indigo eyes flitting downwards and successfully avoiding Arthur's eyes. "M-My mama s-says th-that it'll g-g-get better s-soon. I just h-h-have t-to keep p-pr-practicing."_

_Arthur digested this information for a while, studying the snow-covered ground thoughtfully. Matthew sounded uncomfortable, and he was starting to regret asking. "Maybe I can help."_

_Matthew's face lit up and he lifted his head at Arthur, eyes wide, lips pulled into a smile. "Really? You w-would?"_

_"Sure," Arthur said, thinking it over. "We can start now. I'll pretend to be someone else, and you have to try to talk to me without stuttering."_

_"O-Okay."_

_They spent the rest of recess doing this. By the time the bell rung, signaling for them to come back inside, they hadn't made much progress. But still, as they headed towards the school, Arthur felt Matthew lacing his fingers with his. _

_Before the young Brit could ask what he was doing, Matthew whispered, "Th-Thank you f-f-for being my fr-friend, Arthur."_

_Arthur shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal, but deep inside, his heart fluttered._

**. . .**

"I don't get why you don't just _go_ for him," the unsightly teenager drawled, taking another drag from his lighted joint. Smoke wafted up into the air, dispersing once they reached the height of his tall, spiky hair.

Arthur didn't know how he began to be friends with the senior (his name was Lars, Arthur thought, but wasn't sure) but they both constantly lingered on the roof, so he supposed it was inevitable. After Lars first tried to offer him a joint and Arthur vehemently refused, they formed a sort of awkward friendship. Lars mostly gave the worst advice to Arthur whenever he told him about something, and then Arthur would criticize him.

"He has a boyfriend," Arthur deadpanned. "Or have you been living under a rock for the past couple of years?" His accented voice dripped heavily with sarcasm.

"Excuse me if I'm not so interested in your grade level's drama." Lars grinned toothily. He inhaled from the joint again, making a noise of contentment. "But seriously, why don't you?"

Arthur started to repeat himself, but Lars continued: "I mean, who's that Alfred kid to stop you?" Then he chuckled. "Although, I've seen your Matthew Williams, and I can't really blame the guy for wanting a piece of that."

That sparked something inside of Arthur - anger? Jealousy? "Don't talk about him like he's some possession you can have," he snapped, emerald eyes gleaming.

"I was just saying." Lars gave an indifferent shrug. "But, don't you see?"

"What?"

"You can't even defend him from someone like _me_ saying stuff like that." The Dutchman chuckled again, enjoying seeing the younger boy riled up. He ran a hand through his unruly hair.

Arthur glared. "You haven't even held a single conversation with him. I doubt you're any closer to him than I am."

"I think I can get him if I tried," Lars replied easily, which made Arthur clench his fists. "Hey, don't get mad at me. I'm just trying to offer some advice."

"Really? Then I think this is the shittiest piece of advice I've ever heard from you." Arthur stood from his seat on the concrete, dusting off his pants. "I'm wasting my time with you." He started heading for the door leading to the flight of stairs down.

"Matthew wants someone who can protect him!" Lars called after him. "You keep talking about how one day you're going to beat out Alfred, but when _will_ you? Words can't really help you in this situation, Arthur!"

Arthur slammed the door shut, practically stomping down the stairs. He could barely think straight after what Lars had said to him, his anger getting the best of him and clouding all rational thought.

It was quiet some time until he finally reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped onto the school's hallways. By then, his mind was a little clearer, although the anger hadn't fully subsided yet. He wanted to strangle Lars.

Yet, as he prepared for bed that night, he glanced at the picture standing on his bedside table: One of him and Matthew standing in front of their old elementary school.

He remembered the smile that Matthew reserved especially for him, the times when they would hold hands. One would say that they were just too innocent to know any better, but Arthur _did_ know better, and what he knew was that he loved Matthew.

After staring at that picture for the longest of times, Lars's advice suddenly began to seem less ridiculous.

**. . .**

The bathroom was one of Arthur's least favorite places in the school. Often it was dirty and smelled awful, thanks to the Axe spray that the boys weren't too conservative on using. Arthur tried to avoid using it as much as possible, but an idiot had smeared glue all over his desk as a prank, and Arthur found his hands unbearably sticky by the time class started. He excused himself to go to the bathroom to wash it off.

It was empty, thankfully; the annoying boys who usually hung around were in class. He was just drying his hands when the door opened and someone else walked in.

He wasn't expecting it to be anyone of importance, much less Matthew himself.

The fair-haired Canadian didn't really notice him at first, making his way to a sink and turning the water on. It was only when Arthur mustered up enough wits to say, "Morning" that he finally turned to the Englishman, surprised.

"O-Oh, Arthur!" An easy smile broke out on his face. "Wow, I haven't seen you in a long time, eh."

_Not since you started dating that asshole._

The truth was practically the metaphorical elephant standing in the room; Arthur credited Matthew for managing to act so casual.

Instead he said: "School's been keeping us all preoccupied, I suppose." He returned his gaze to the rectangular mirror hanging on the wall, studying himself. His eyes were sunken, his skin seemed pale; he felt embarrassment at being caught in this state - especially by Matthew.

"Yeah." The conversation died off for a while as Matthew ripped a paper towel off and began drying his hands. Arthur was certain that the blond would just leave, but the other surprised him by turning around again and suggesting, "We should meet up after school sometime. Catch up with each other, or something."

Arthur looked at him through the mirror, making sure to mask his surprise. Matthew Williams still wanted to do something with him? He studied him. His eyes were almost immediately drawn to that spot on his cheek, where a gray, ugly bruise had been, almost three years ago... "Really?" he asked dubiously.

"Why not?" Matthew smiled softly. "It'll be...just like the old times."

An image of two little boys sitting together on a set of swings surfaced to Arthur's thoughts, and suddenly, he felt angry.

Who was Matthew to deny him like he had, pretend that he didn't exist, and then, four years later, ask him if he wanted to spend some time together? Did he find it funny? Did he like to torture Arthur like this?

But despite the irrational rise of anger, Arthur also imagined him and Matthew walking down the sidewalk together, maybe heading to that old park where they used to play as kids.

He thought of the picture in his bedroom, the one he had kept for eight years now, and of the advice Lars had given him just the day before.

"How about after school, later?" he offered, tone softening. He found himself smiling.

Matthew hesitated for a few seconds, but answered, "Sure. I'll meet you by the parking lot?" He smiled back.

Arthur's breath hitched, and at that moment, he felt like seventh grader Arthur again, standing in front of his best friend with sweaty palms, admitting that he-

"Sounds fine with me."

Not too long after he'd spoken, the door was abruptly shoved open, and a litany of voices and laughter filtered into the bathroom. The sounds echoed throughout the walls.

It was Alfred.

He blinked in surprise at the scene before him, and Arthur took pride in the way he looked off-guard. "Mattie?" the quarterback asked, averting his confused eyes to his boyfriend.

"I was about to leave, Al," Matthew said, tossing the balled up paper towel into the trash can. "I got a little sidetracked with Arthur."

Arthur felt hurt that Matthew could brush him off that easily, but he didn't miss the furtive glance that Matthew cast him. The Canadian was probably trying to keep Alfred at bay.

"Okay." Alfred wrapped his arm around Matthew's shoulders protectively. Possessively. Led him out of the bathroom.

Before Alfred shut the door behind him, he made sure to make eye contact with Arthur, cerulean clashing with emerald. "Stay away from him."

Arthur didn't respond.

It was when the American finally yanked the door shut behind him that Arthur allowed himself to smile a smile that was so wide, his cheeks hurt. He caught a glance of himself in the mirror as he walked out and couldn't help but compare his own expression to that of a madman's.

Words weren't going to help him in this situation, after all...


	3. III: Canary

III. Canary

_When Arthur opened his door on a specific August morning, he wasn't expecting to find Matthew sitting on his porch steps. True, they would wait for each other every morning, but they usually met up at the bus stop._

_Upon hearing the door opening, the twelve-year-old jumped up and nearly ran into Arthur. "A-Are you ready?" His eyes, which were now half hidden behind round, wiry glasses, gleamed with panic._

_"It's just school." Arthur shrugged, shouting goodbye to his mother before shutting the front door behind him._

_"Y-Yeah, b-but aren't you sc-scared that y-you'll get lost?" Matthew's stuttering had somewhat improved over the years, but in anxious situations, it always came back full-force. "And wh-what if the older k-k-kids try t-to beat y-you up!"_

_Clearly, the Canadian had been watching too many movies._

_"What did you watch last night?" Arthur asked disapprovingly._

_Matthew flushed. Knowing he couldn't lie to his best friend - that, and he was a bad liar in general - he mumbled something inaudible under his breath._

_Arthur didn't quite catch it, but it was probably one of those slice-of-life movies, where the stereotypical victim gets picked on by the stereotypical bullies. Honestly, couldn't those Americans think of something better? "If they try to beat you up, I'll kick their arses," he said seriously, shouldering his backpack._

_They both began walking towards the bus stop. Matthew giggled next to him. "Y-You can't hurt a-anyone w-with words, Artie."_

_Arthur would normally blanch at the nickname, but coming from Matthew, it sounded…endearing. "Then you've never seen me," he retaliated, which only resulted in more giggling from Matthew._

_When they stepped on the bus, about half of the seats were already filled. Most of the older kids sat in the back, while more of the younger-looking ones inhabited the front. Matthew chose a seat in the second row to the front, and Arthur slipped in next to him. The bus ride was, thankfully, uneventful. Matthew ranted on nervously while Arthur tried his best to reassure him. Eventually, it got to a point where Arthur snapped, "Everything'll be fine, Matthew!" and the younger boy, eyes becoming wet, mumbled an apology before resorting to staring out the window._

_Arthur sighed and patted his friend's shoulder, a little awkwardly. "Just…trust me, all right?"_

_"O-O-Okay." Matthew leaned his head against the cool window, but shot Arthur a trying smile through the reflective glass._

_True to Arthur's word, they managed to survive their first day of middle school. Matthew had almost wailed when he found out that they only had three classes together; Arthur shushed him, hissing, "Act your age, for the Queen's sake!"_

_"W-We don't h-h-have a queen," Matthew sniffled, but furiously rubbed at his eyes the moment Arthur turned away._

_At the end of the school day, they got off the bus and walked home together._

_Neither could hardly wait until the weekend; those two days have never seemed so inviting._

**. . .**

"You agreed to do _what_?" His boyfriend's bright blue eyes were bulging almost comically, tone incredulous. "He's _crazy_. Plus, I thought we were going to see a movie together."

Matthew had tried to mentally prepare himself for this - he had known it was coming - but it seemed that he'd forgotten all of his preparation. Maybe he shouldn't have told Alfred after all.

"He's not crazy, and we can always see a movie sometime else," he defended, albeit weakly. "I would know, Al. I was his best friend throughout elementary, and part of middle school."

The teacher had assigned them a worksheet to do until the end of class, but, evidently, Alfred and Matthew weren't working on that.

"Yeah, but is he still the same guy that he was back then?" For once, Alfred had a valid point. Matthew pictured a twelve-year-old Arthur, wearing a white button-up, sweater vest, slacks, and suede shoes. Everyone always seemed to make fun of him, but Matthew had never minded the way his best friend dressed.

He mentally compared that image to the current, sixteen-year-old Arthur, who was almost never seen without his grungy attire of graphic t-shirts, tattered jeans, and old Vans. His hair, usually so kempt, was now usually in tousled spikes.

Matthew missed the Arthur that would let him curl up next to him and read Shakespeare out loud, voice soothing to his ears.

"I just miss my best friend, Al." Matthew bemoaned himself inwardly as he heard his own voice crack halfway through.

Alfred, afraid that the rather delicate blond would start tearing up, softened his tone and tried again: "I'm just worried, Matt."

"You don't think I can defend myself?"

"Dude, I see the way you play hockey. I _know_ you can defend yourself. But, Arthur..."

"Arthur's fine." Matthew put a hand on Alfred's forearm, trying to soothe him. "I think we both just want to talk. With luck, maybe we'll resolve some things, and then it wouldn't be so awkward between us anymore." He sounded hopeful.

Alfred watched as Matthew's eyes clouded distantly and felt torn. He knew that Arthur Kirkland was most definitely not healthy - not after he had almost _killed _Matthew in seventh grade...

He didn't know why the school board didn't do anything more than suspend Arthur for three days. He was back in school before Matthew's bruises even started to fade.

Yet Matthew - Matthew clearly didn't realize this. In a way, Alfred could relate; if he did something awful to Matthew, he'd want to try and resolve it so that they would at least be on speaking terms again. And it was completely in Matthew's character to want to do something like this.

The dismissal bell rung all of the sudden, a shrill, high-pitched noise that signaled their freedom from school.

Alfred made a decision. "If he tries _anything_," he began solemnly as they filed out of the classroom, "you run and hide in the nearest place possible, then call me. Got it?"

The smile that lit up Matthew's face almost completely assured Alfred that things would go smoothly. "Will do," the Canadian replied, giving a mock salute.

(_Almost_.)

**. . .**

Arthur pulled the door shut, all the while trying to dig his keys out from his pocket. He had inserted the key and started the ignition when there was a knock from outside.

Matthew's face appeared on the other side of the glass. He motioned at the passenger door and Arthur, a little dumbfounded, unlocked the doors. He watched as Matthew hurried to get inside.

It was when Matthew clicked his seat belt on and hauled his bag into his lap that Arthur uttered, "I didn't think you'd come."

"Why wouldn't I?" Matthew gave him a sideways glance, expression a mixture of bemusement and hurt.

"...Just a feeling." Arthur's eyes flickered to the front doors of the school. He wondered if Alfred was standing there somewhere, watching. Making sure that Matthew was safe.

It would be no use soon. They were going to a place that Alfred didn't know about, much less knew how to get to.

"You can put your bag in the backseat," Arthur said as he maneuvered the car out of the parking lot. "Saves space."

Matthew acquiesced, lugging the object over with minimal effort. "Where are we going?" he asked once he was settled back in his seat. Arthur thought that he sounded odd, until he realized that there was a hint of fear in Matthew's voice.

Was Matthew afraid of him?

"To a place I'm sure you'll remember," he said, not looking at the other boy.

Matthew seemed content with that answer - if he wasn't, he didn't say anything. They made minimal chatter on the fifteen-minute drive. Matthew started to sit up in his seat and look attentively out the window when they began to pass through a bout of familiar houses.

"Here?" the Canadian said softly, traces of fondness in his voice.

"A little bit farther," Arthur replied, easing the car through the exit. From peripheral vision, he saw Matthew lean slightly in his seat as he watched the sight fade away into the rear view mirror.

"Our bus stop," Matthew said, alerting Arthur's attention.

He slowed the car, making sure there weren't any others on the road, before looking over to where Matthew was pointing. It was, indeed, their old bus stop. He knew the sight by heart and could never forget the rock that jutted out from the ground awkwardly, a few feet away. It was where Matthew had one day gotten through a single sentence without stuttering.

Arthur didn't say anything and continued driving. As Matthew eased back into his seat, he caught the barest hints of a smile playing on the boy's lips.

It made Arthur start to regret what he was going to do.

**. . .**

The coffeehouse was empty except for them and the bored-looking waiter standing behind the counter. Despite the many open seats, Arthur led them to a booth in the farther corner. He never did like being out in the open, visible for anyone and everyone to see.

"Do you remember when we first came here, we got kicked out?" Arthur mused, folding his fingers together under his chin.

Matthew laughed. "Don't say that out loud, they might hear you."

"I doubt they'd still recognize us." Matthew, Arthur noted, had changed remarkably since seventh grade: his rounded, almost feminine facial structure had matured into angled cheekbones and a slightly more pointed chin. He hadn't lost his "innocent" air about him, although Arthur knew that Matthew could also go quite far into the opposite side of the spectrum.

Arthur was aware of how he'd changed himself. It had some perks - people didn't bother him as much as they used to in middle school. He knew that they still whispered about him as he'd pass them by in the hallway, but no one was ever brave enough to say anything to his face. Alfred was probably the only one who got close to actually confronting him, but even then, he could always see a brief flicker of uncertainty in the American's eyes.

A young woman with bright red hair came to take their order. Matthew ordered, unsurprisingly, a stack of pancakes with extra syrup and strawberries. Arthur ordered a simple mug of coffee.

"I'm surprised you didn't get tea," Matthew commented mildly as the waitress walked away.

"I'm surprised you didn't order more than just three pancakes," Arthur returned.

Matthew smiled and grabbed a piece of napkin from the center of the table. He took out a pen from his coat pocket and began to scribble something silently.

As Arthur watched, it dawned on the Englishman how much he actually missed the younger boy. It surprised him; a sort of apathy had settled itself over his emotions within the past few years, blanketing them and making him numb. It was the first time he _felt_ something in so long.

It was, in a way, nice.

It made him feel...alive again.

A sharp ringing interrupted the silence. Matthew jolted suddenly, the pen clattering out of his hand. "Sorry," he mumbled as he pulled his cell phone out from his pocket. He glanced down at the caller ID, frowned. Arthur watched, mildly curious, as he pressed a button and the ringing stop.

"Sorry about that," Matthew said sheepishly, putting the small device away. "Al's just..."

"Overbearing," Arthur finished for him, although felt a twinge of regret when Matthew slumped in his seat.

"He thinks you're going to-" He broke off, clearing his throat. "N-Never mind that. The food's here."

His pancakes were set down in front of him, and a steaming mug of coffee was put in front of Arthur. The waitress asked if they wanted anyone else, but Matthew didn't answer, looking awkwardly down at his lap, and neither did Arthur, simply observing the boy in front of him. Finally, the woman left and they were alone again.

Arthur drank. He waited patiently for Matthew to finish. He knew better than to bring up the subject again - he had gotten quite far, after all. He didn't want to lose all of Matthew's trust again; then he would have to start over, back to square one.

As they walked back to the car later, Arthur said quietly, "I didn't mean to do it."

Matthew shot him a wary glance.

"I don't know what came over me. One minute you were speaking to me, and then I was standing over you..." Arthur took a slow step towards him, trying to catch his eyes. "I've always had trouble with my anger, you know?"

A soft laugh escaped Matthew's lips. "I know," he affirmed. He didn't turn to face Arthur.

"You know I never wanted to hurt you, Matthew," Arthur said, and this time he could hear himself start to sound pleading. "And I still don't, today." He reached forward with both arms, drawing the Canadian close with one hand and using the other to tilt his chin towards him. "I just want my friend back."

He leaned forward and, with gentleness that he didn't know he possessed, pressed his lips against Matthew's.

One - two - three seconds passed before Matthew's hands came up against his chest and he was pushed back, bumping into the side of his car. Matthew's eyes were wide, cheeks florid, and mouth agape.

"Matthew-"

Matthew took a shaky step backwards. "A-A-Arthur, I c-can't-" Another step. "I'm s-s-sorry." He turned and ran, stumbling in his steps.

Arthur was left standing there. Slowly, he looked down at himself, at his hands.

Was Matthew that afraid of him?

Was he really that awful...?

He turned and slammed his fist against the window of his car, thus shattering the delicate glass.

Ignoring the blood dripping down his arm and knotting his fingers into his own hair, yanking at the strands harshly, he slid down and cried.

* * *

**a/n:** So yeah, there's obviously some history between Matthew and Arthur. Shit shall hit the fan by the next chapter, methinks. Or, that might have happened a while ago...

OH, and I finally figured out a schedule for updating this. I'll be putting up new chapters on Mondays and Fridays, or possibly earlier, depending on how much time I have. Yay for not abandoning this story~ ; w ;


	4. IV: Raven

IV. Raven

Matthew didn't know how long he ran for, or how far he got, feet pounding heavily against the sidewalk, heart beating erratically, but when he finally stopped, Arthur's car was nowhere to be seen in the distance. His breathing was labored and his vision was blurred around the edges, some spots of white clouding it further.

He honestly hadn't meant to do something so rash. The urge to run had come almost instinctively, like a rabbit would bolt when it was faced with a hungry wolf.

But Matthew wasn't a helpless animal, and Arthur wasn't a predator. Despite all of the warnings everyone had given him since seventh grade, that Arthur was dangerous, Arthur couldn't be trusted, Arthur was crazy, he had never been able to bring himself to think of his former best friend as anything bad. Arthur, who loved tea and loved Shakespeare even more, who used to protect him from older kids, who helped him overcome his stutter, was always so well-intentioned.

So what had Matthew run?

Hands trembling, the Canadian slumped down in an empty bench. Several people glanced over to give him almost sympathetic walks, but they walked on.

That kiss - it scared him. No, it _terr__ified_ him, to the point where he felt like a younger version of himself again, who still stuttered, who still had a tendency to cry even when he was in middle school, who seldom went through a night without having nightmares of his mom crawling out from her grave and into his bedroom, rotting hands clutching that yard stick that she always used on him.

He'd known about how Arthur felt since his confession. But the kiss implied that he _still_ felt that way, and it surprised Matthew. Four years had passed since that unforgettable incident; so Arthur's feelings never changed since then? The question wasn't a great comfort.

It hadn't been the kiss itself that scared him so much. Rather, it was the fact that, for a second, he..._liked_ it.

The thought made his cheeks burn. He folded his long legs and buried his face into his knees for the sake of hiding his face from passerbys.

When Arthur first confessed to him four years ago, Matthew had been severely confused. Even though they'd been best friends for quite a while, he never really figured out exactly what Arthur meant to him.

He didn't like jumping into things without being completely sure first. So when he softly explained that he didn't like Arthur in the way, it was because he had thought - and convinced himself - that the emerald-eyed boy was just a brother to him. He wasn't so sure now.

_God..._ he thought, his head throbbing painfully. Whether it was a sign of an oncoming headache or simply just because he was thinking too much, he wasn't sure. Standing, Matthew took out his cell phone and checked the time.

It was 4:37.

(Below the time, a small box informed him that he had two missed calls, both from Alfred - he tried to ignore the unpleasant feeling that bloomed in his stomach from seeing his boyfriend's name.)

At least it wasn't too late yet.

Matthew glanced around and tried to figure out exactly where he was. He recognized several shops and, of course, the coffeehouse they'd visited was a dead giveaway. Arthur had taken them to the little city they loved to visit when they were younger.

A sense of nostalgia overcame Matthew. His heart rate was slowing, little by little, but not as fast as he would have liked.

Before he knew it, he was walking down the sidewalk, gazing around wonderingly at his surroundings.

_This place didn't really change much, did it?_

The sudden ringing of his phone brought him back from the surreality of things. He looked down, almost dumbly, at the lit-up screen of his phone. The caller ID displayed his older brother's name.

It was then that he remembered: _Oh, did I forget to tell him and Papa where I was?_

The phone stopped ringing, stayed still for a few seconds, before starting right back up. It was Francis again.

Trying to suppress the feeling of guilt that crowded his mind, he answered the call and greeted: "Hello?"

"Matthew?" His brother's accented voice sounded slightly crackly through the receiver. "Where are you at?"

"Hi, Francis." How was he supposed to explain his situation? He'd gone with the same boy who gave him a shiner, plus practically broke his cheek, several years ago? _Oh, don't worry, Francis, we just had coffee and talked for a bit!_ "I was with some friends," he lied instead. He was glad they were talking over the phone; he was an awful liar when he was face-to-face with someone.

"Oh, I see," Francis said, much to his relief. "With Alfred?" Matthew knew his brother was just being casual, but the question sent his pulse racing.

_Alfred._

God, what was he going to tell him? "No, Al was too busy with...homework." As soon as the sentence left his lips, he immediately regretted it. Alfred rarely missed plans to do homework, of all things. Before Francis could have a chance to be skeptic, Matthew continued: "Um, do you think you can pick me up?" He didn't want to ask Alfred and risk a confrontation. He also didn't want to try and find Arthur again, not until he'd sorted his feelings out. (He didn't think he'd be able to even maintain eye contact.)

"Of course, but why?" Francis sounded worried.

"We went to the city, but we got separated, and now I don't know where to find them," Matthew blurted, _really_ glad that this was taking place over the phone.

He could imagine the frown on his older brother's face. "I see." There was a pause, and Matthew baited his breath. Francis bought the lie. "Where are you at?"

Matthew gave him the name printed on the nearest street sign. After Francis told him he'd be there to pick him up within a few minutes, he ended the call.

When Francis arrived, he said nothing of where he was, of the all-too familiar stores, of the memories that came rushing back.

Matthew silently thanked him for that.

**. . .**

The next day, Matthew woke up earlier than usual. Briefly, he entertained the idea of feigning sickness so he could stay home, but that would probably make Alfred even more worried. He got dressed and ate breakfast and was halfway out the door when he heard a car behind him. He slowed subconsciously, waiting for it to pass, but it never did.

"Are you planning on walkin' the whole way to school, or what?" The sound of Alfred's voice immediately made his stomach drop. He stopped walking as the car pulled up beside him. He watched Alfred lean over and open the passenger side door for him. "Hop in."

Seeing that it was practically impossible to avoid this, Matthew bit back a sigh before complying and getting in. After he shut the door, Alfred began to drive again. "How'd it go?" he queried. "With Arthur, I mean." He didn't sound too serious yet, or maybe that was just because LMFAO was playing on the radio.

_Just answer as calmly as possible,_ Matthew tried to tell himself. "Fine," he said stiffly, and then mentally kicked himself. So much for being calm.

"Well, it looked like you were trying to avoid me back there, and you don't look very fine," Alfred said. He stopped at a red light and shifted in his seat so that he was half-facing Matthew. "What happened? Did he try to force you into anything?"

"No, or otherwise I would have called you, like I said I would." Matthew couldn't prevent the weary tone from creeping into his voice. "It went well. My...backpack's with him, though..." He mumbled the last sentence, hoping that Alfred wouldn't hear him over the radio.

No luck. Alfred clicked the radio off, but said nothing. Matthew didn't miss the way his hand tightened on the steering wheel.

"Why?"

Matthew thought over his answer carefully, then decided the truth would be good enough. "I forgot to take it out of his car when he dropped me off at home."

"Oh." Alfred looked visibly relieved, and Matthew felt so, too. The last thing he wanted was for Alfred to be pissed at him. "I'm sorry if I sounded harsh or anything, but I just don't want you getting hurt, Mattie..."

"I know, Al," Matthew said quietly, resting his head against the seat and closing his eyes. "I know."

"When are you gonna get it from him?"

"I'll probably have him drop it off."

He realized how much he's been lying, lately.

**. . .**

He refused to look at Arthur for the whole school day. When he did gather enough courage to spare him some glances, Arthur was always looking straight ahead, back ramrod-straight, eyes vacant. His right hand was wrapped in a bandage, and Matthew felt a faint sense of worry.

When the dismissal bell finally rang, Matthew stayed back to wait for Alfred as his boyfriend finished writing his essay. The day had been rough - he was forced to take notes on new sheets of paper due to his missing things - but at least it was over.

He was waiting out in the empty hallway when he heard Arthur: "I still have your backpack."

Taking a deep breath, Matthew turned around. Upon noticing that it wasn't anywhere in sight, he asked: "Where is it?"

It took a while for Arthur to respond. Emerald green orbs seemed to bore into Matthew's soul, yet they looked so...empty. Apathetic. "It's back at my car." Another pause. "I think...I think you should come get it. So you don't fall behind with schoolwork."

Without another word, the older boy spun around his heels and began walking towards the parking lot, taking even, deliberate steps. Matthew glanced at the still-closed classroom door and silently willed Alfred to finish and come out already. He dismayed when the door stayed shut.

"Matthew?"

The voice sent chills down his spine. He turned. Arthur was standing unnaturally at the end of the hallway, a lone figure in front of the double doors that led outside.

"Are you coming?"

Even though they were several feet away from each other, Matthew could feel those eyes on him, so calm and so maddening at the same time.

"Are you coming?"

He wanted to say no.

"Are you coming?"

Matthew sent one last desperate glance at the closed door before his feet started carrying him to Arthur.

**. . .**

There were only three or four cars left in the back, including Arthur's. Matthew stopped, looking around. Where was he? He'd just been following him a few seconds ago...

"A-A-Arthur?" he called out uncertainly, the anxiety getting to him and making him stutter.

He'd just turned to go back inside when a cloth was pressed against his mouth and the world went dark.


	5. V: Heron

V. Heron

The irate teacher had finished the last of his tirade; Alfred uneasily gathered his things before inching out of the classroom. His expression changed to one with a smile as he stepped out to the hallway, expecting to see a certain blond Canadian waiting for him, like he did every day without failure. When he realized that the area was empty, the smile slowly vanished.

He hummed thoughtfully, scratching the back of his neck. Maybe Matthew was waiting for him at the car? Alfred found this explanation reasonable and shouldered his backpack.

A few minutes later, he would emerge from the school, only to find that the car was empty, as well. He, considering what had transpired the day before, would figure that Matthew must have needed time to think and walked home - it wouldn't be the first time it happened. Alfred would get in his car and drive home with full faith that Matthew will be okay by the next day.

He would ignore the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that something was wrong.

**. . .**

It took a great effort just to open his eyes; Matthew managed to do so with a small, guttural groan. His vision swam and his arms felt like dead weight resting beside him. There was a seat belt strapped across his chest and that's when he realized that he was sitting in a moving car.

"Ar...thur?" he slurred. His tongue felt like it was suddenly too big for his mouth. His brain registered Arthur's presence beside him, hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead.

He felt a hand combing itself through his hair. "Sleep, Matthew," he heard Arthur say. The Englishman sounded dim, far away. "It's a long drive."

Despite his wishes, Matthew fell back into unconsciousness to the feel of the car rumbling along a road and the lulling sound of Arthur's voice.

**. . .**

_Arthur watched with a heated gaze as Matthew and that pathetic excuse of a human being _danced_ together: Matthew's hand resting on a broad shoulder, waist held by hands that looked a little too comfortable._

_He never had a reason to hate their physical education class before, but now he found himself absolutely loathing it. Briefly, he felt himself direct a portion of that resentment towards Matthew, but he chided himself afterwards. It wasn't Matthew's fault. It was that other boy's - Alfred's.  
_

_Two days ago, Arthur had nodded in agreement when Matthew suggested that they go say hi to the new student who sat by himself in an empty lunch table, looking anxious. He knew Matthew was always eager to help others, friends or strangers.  
_

_So they said hi and introduced themselves. Arthur quickly realized that the vulnerable look they'd seen on Alfred's face must have been a mask; fifteen minutes into the lunch period, the American was laughing and joking loudly as if he knew them all his life. He remembered seeing Matthew sitting there, indigo eyes wide and seemingly fascinated with their new friend. It had been his mistake to ignore it and think nothing of when Matthew asked the next day if they could sit with Alfred again.  
_

_It didn't take much for Arthur to dislike Alfred. He was loud, brash, and showed off for the most inane of reasons. He took to calling them shortened versions of their names - Artie and Mattie - and seemed to suddenly become the favorite of every teacher. It wasn't long before Arthur decided that Alfred was a very unappealing, catastrophic creature sent down to turn his life into a living hell.  
_

_But Matthew obviously thought otherwise.  
_

_And now there they were, dancing together, Matthew's expression the happiest Arthur has seen in a long while, Alfred grinning as he turned Matthew effortlessly about.  
_

_There were more boys than girls in their class - Arthur had the misfortune of getting paired with a particularly irritating one. He had planned to wait until all of the girls were taken so he could have an excuse to ask Matthew to be his partner, but the teacher had walked in with Alfred. She asked if he was comfortable enough to join the class for that day and Alfred, having caught sight of Matthew, had enthusiastically said yes.  
_

_The teacher praised Matthew for trying to help welcome Alfred to the school.  
_

_Yes, Arthur knew Matthew nice - _so_ nice - but Alfred's first day of school had been over three days ago and Matthew should be dancing with _him_, not that loud-mouthed, arrogant little-_

_Arthur inhaled sharply and pulled his partner back a little too fast. She stumbled and almost fell, hissing, "Watch it!"  
_

_He made sure to do it two more times, just to spite her. And when the class finally finished(whose bright idea was it to have a unit on ballroom dancing, anyway?) Arthur yanked Matthew away from Alfred none-so-gently and made sure that the American was nowhere near them for the rest of the day.  
_

_Matthew, worried, asked tentatively, "Are you okay, Arthur?"  
_

_Arthur never answered with a negative because then he would have been lying.  
_

**. . .  
**

The next time Matthew opened his eyes, he was being lifted gently out of the car. The arms that were carefully supporting him underneath his legs felt foreign, and he instinctively began to panic, senses being alerted too soon. As a result from the thrashing, Matthew felt the arms slip away before he landed hard on his back. White streaked his vision and his glasses were askew, but he could still see Arthur standing over him.

"Arthur," he rasped for the other boy. His mind was terribly disoriented and he was lost, confused. He had no recollection of what had transpired, and that was what frightened him the most. Arthur's eyes, underneath concern, had a manic gleam to them.

Matthew struggled to sit up.

"You should have known better than to do that, love." Matthew eyed him warily as he knelt down next to him. He flinched when Arthur put a hand on him. "Are you all right?"

"Hurts a little," was Matthew's clipped reply. The Canadian looked around, only to find his surroundings nearly filled with trees. "Where are we?"

Arthur didn't reply to this, instead offering a hand. After some hesitation, Matthew took it, and Arthur helped him up to his feet. It was when he was standing again, albeit leaning between Arthur and the side of the car, that he noticed the large cabin several meters away.

"Where are we?" Matthew repeated, shooting his best friend a confused gaze. "Arthur."

The Englishman in question stayed silent. He didn't relinquish his hand and instead began to lead Matthew around the car and up the dirt path that lead to the cabin's front door.

"Arthur!" Matthew tried to keep the hysteria from rising in his voice, but in the given circumstance, it was hard to stay calm. He could remember several instances when Arthur blanked out like this - they always ended with an adult having to calm him down, but out here, they were alone. He tried to wriggle away, but Arthur was gripping his hand securely, with a force that Matthew didn't know he had; he was afraid that come morning, there would be bruises. "You're scaring me," he finally resorted to saying, voice soft.

Somehow, Arthur heard these three words. He abruptly halted on the porch of the cabin, facing the Canadian. "Don't be," he muttered. He leaned down and Matthew thought that he was going to kiss him, but he stopped when their noses where just barely brushing. "This is a better place for you." And then he resumed pulling the other towards the front door.

Matthew quickly realized that he couldn't get through to Arthur anymore, not when the other was in a state like this. The Englishman's gaze was blank and his voice was a monotone - nothing about him suggested that he was _sane_ anymore.

Matthew had only seen him get this far lost once, back in seventh grade, in the several days following the Incident-

Arthur wasn't insane. They surely must have run tests, recommended him for a psychologist, and Matthew had never heard that Arthur was diagnosed to be mentally unstable. A little too quick to anger, yes - but the school wouldn't keep a student if they posed a potential threat to others, right?

Matthew tried to cling to this small shard of hope, despite the minimal sense of safety it brought him. _These fits never last_, thought Matthew, _maybe an hour or two more?_ And once Arthur was back, they could laugh over this silly matter and Arthur would take him home.

If Arthur didn't...if he only got progressively _worse_...

_(He could handle himself. He played hockey. He could take on his best friend.)_

But the future currently wasn't looking as bright as what he'd imagined. They reached the front door and Arthur nudged it open with a toe, leading them both in. It was surprisingly clean, with a couch, a dining table, several chairs, and an empty bed. There was a little fireplace in the corner of the room.

Matthew forced himself to relax; Arthur couldn't possibly be looking to hurt him. They had been best friends, for god's sake, since elementary all the way to middle school, he _couldn't-_

__"This is our new home," Arthur said, his words hollow and his eyes just as so.

(That's when Matthew noticed the locks on the door, the fact that there was only one bed, and the several shackles laying on the floor.)

* * *

**a/n:** I'm sorry this is so late orz ;skldfa;sejoifoewfj


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